


Pearls and Pawns

by QuarterClever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deal With the Devil, FYSL Holiday Hellatus Fanwork Exchange, Fic Exchange, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, pawnshop AU, pawnshop AUs are a thing now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarterClever/pseuds/QuarterClever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts: deal with the devil, lens, pearls</p><p>Sam came into the pawn shop to beg for a family heirloom, but owner Luke is far more interested in Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearls and Pawns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fightlikeagirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightlikeagirl/gifts).



The necklace sits there on a red velvet cushion, mocking him. Well, it’s really the guy behind counter who’s mocking him, but he’s pretty sure the necklace would be joining in if it actually had a voice.

“Sorry, kiddo, no can do. You’re not even the one who pawned it in the first place.”

“But it was my mother’s,” he tries again, because he’s a lawyer, damnit, and doesn’t that mean he’s supposed to have a silver tongue or something? “It’s all I have left of her—“

“Terrible. I feel just awful for you, really.” The necklace gleams with what _has_ to be a sarcastic glint, Sam’s sure of it. “But if I let every sob story renege on their deal—“

“I’m not trying to renege. I’m trying to renegotiate.” Really, he’s much better at this when it’s a client’s freedom at stake, not just his mother’s legacy, and he doesn’t want to think about what that says about him.

“—Or renegotiate or refinance or remit then I’d have a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings but no way to pay the bills. The only way you’re getting your hands on it is if you buy it; the pawn period’s been up for a week now.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I don’t have that kind of money.” He didn’t even have the money to pay back what his dad had originally pawned it for, much less the ridiculous amount they’re trying to charge for a necklace that only is only really worth something to Sam.

“Well then I don’t have a necklace for you.” The man behind the counter’s sneer is reflected in the way the twin strands of the necklace twist about each other, which Sam is obviously only just now noticing because it’s not like the damn thing is really mocking him, it’s not. He sighs again and turns to go. Maybe he can talk to Dean, work something out. Or maybe—

“Oh, I’m sure we can work something out,” a new voice interjects. And Sam turns to look, because he hasn’t had his hopes crushed enough for one day and, hey, why not let the necklace toy with him some more if it really is going to be the last he sees of it? Only when he turns around completely and gets a good look at the guy, he swears the necklace is glinting at him with something completely different than its usual taunting (and he really, _really_ should stop staying up late with Dean and watching all those horror movie marathons because he’s moved beyond personifying a piece of jewelry and onto pretty much giving it a soul).

He’s wearing a slim-fitting suit, the kind he sees other lawyers wearing at the courthouse, the kind you can afford if your clients ever actually pay you—the kind you get if your clients are guilty. Those other lawyers and their defendants would probably be able to tell you what type of suit it is, Sam thinks, hell, they’d probably be able to tell him who the designer is. It looks like the kind of suit with a designer. He doesn’t actually _know_ , of course, all he knows is that the man looks good in it, nothing like Sam in his second best suit that he’s had since law school interviews, the one he got off the sales rack at JC Penney’s. (His best suit is from Good Will and it was probably a decent suit before it passed through a half dozen hands and Sam ended up with it, but now it’s worn at the knees and a bit too short in the arms, nothing like the suit this guy’s wearing, the kind of suit that Sam can’t help but associate with people who’d be pleading guilty if they had any decency.) And, okay, maybe he’s rambling about the guy’s stupid suit, but he’s pretty sure it’s only in his head and if he actually pays attention to the guy’s face he’s pretty sure his rambling is going to be public because _damn_.

“Luke.” He offers a hand along with his name. “It’s this necklace here, the pearl one?” At Sam’s nod, he unlocks the case and gently draws the necklace out. One corner of his mouth lifts slightly in what Sam tells himself is an unattractive expression. “Let’s just see what I’ve got to work with here.” Luke keeps his eyes on Sam for just a moment too long before turning his gaze away for what he realizes may be the first time. 

The pawnbroker examines the necklace with minute care, rubbing his fingers over each pearl and making soft noises under his breath. He pulls a magnifying lens out from under the counter, holding the necklace up in one hand and the lens in another. His eye is freakishly large behind the glass. Intense. That’s the word for Luke, the word that’s been flitting around Sam’s head, unvoiced, this whole time.

“Mm, nice grain. Very… fine.” Luke’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, and Sam finds his own licking his lips without his permission. “Flawed, of course, but that just means they’re real, it’s a sign of their worth.” Luke’s making a show of looking over the pearls still, but his eyes are fastened on Sam’s, and Sam has the feeling it’s not the worth of the necklace that’s being weighed. The necklace that, Sam realizes suddenly, has been quiet all of this time (not that he thought it was actually talking, not _really_ ). Maybe it’s because Sam’s been too focused on Luke or maybe it’s because Luke is just so _there_ that everything else seems dim in comparison. 

“Yes, I’m sure we’ll be able to work out something.”

“I can’t pay you,” Sam chokes on his leg as it follows the foot he just put in his mouth.

“Don’t worry, Matthew; this is a pawn shop. Cash isn’t the only form of payment we take.” Sam’s imagining the path Luke’s gaze traces, has to be, because that only happens in movies and the Harlequin romance novels he’ll never admit to reading.

“It’s _Sam_.” He’s flushing, although he’s not sure why. “Sam Winchester.”

“The defense lawyer, I know. Your record is nearly unblemished.” People don’t know that. _No one_ knows that, even knows who Sam is except for his clients, who come to him by word of mouth and tend to pay him in casseroles and helping him sort through the never-ending piles of paperwork in his studio apartment/office.

“It helps to have clients that are innocent.” There are easier ways, he’s sure, to redeem himself, but they all have enough leeway in them that he doesn’t trust himself to take them.

“Someday you must tell me how you manage to have any clients at all.” Yeah, because no one’s ever made _that_ joke before. Sam mutters something about how he manages just fine, thanks, shrugging and wishing that he had a suit with a fancy name on right now. He doesn’t demand his clients are innocent of _everything_ , just that they didn’t do whatever they’re charged with. “Still, I can always use a good lawyer.”

“Are you innocent?” He suspects the answer but he tries not to judge. He’s been surprised before, after all, and people can change. _He_ can change. Luke just smiles, tips of his teeth barely showing, and Sam knows that his judgment (judgment, not judging, there’s a difference, he’s in no position to judge) is dead-on. “Not sure I’m the guy you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I think you’re _exactly_ what I’m looking for.” His mind seems to have switched over from imbuing the necklace with sass to imagining Luke flirting with him because there is _no_ _way_ Luke just said that to him in _that_ tone of voice with that… that _sultry_ look in his eyes (no more horror movie marathons with Dean and no more Harlequin romance novels that he doesn’t actually read; it doesn’t matter that it isn’t New Year’s he’s making those resolutions and he’s sticking to ‘em).

“I’ll make you a deal. You work for me, as my lawyer, until you pay off the price of the necklace. It might take awhile, of course. Your father shouldn’t let things of such value come through my door if he has no intention of reclaiming them,” If Sam were Dean he’d probably be growling about that, but as it is he kind of agrees, “although I doubt he realizes their worth.” Luke’s not talking about pearls and they both know it.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Sam swallows. “Or my family.”

Luke stops fondling the necklace, placing it carefully on a cloth covering a portion of the glass counter. He walks around to stand next to Sam, leaning far enough into his personal space to be uncomfortable but not far enough to call him on it. It’s the way he’s been this whole time, intense, looking too long, smirking at odd times, but nothing that Sam can put his finger on exactly. And nothing that’s going to drive him out of here. There’s the necklace to think about.

“Sam. Sammy. I know,” Luke keeps talking right over Sam’s soft protest, “more than you think. I know who you are and where you’ve been and I know what you’ve done.”

“No. You don’t. You _can’t_.”

“I know that you’re a lot like these pearls.” Luke’s stroking them with fingers that shouldn’t be able to be that gentle; his eyes are fixed on Sam’s. “You have your flaws, but they’re not what make you weak. If you think that you’re wrong. Your flaws are what make you real, beautiful. Your flaws are what make you perfect.”

“You don’t know _anything_.” He’s not sure if his teeth or his fists are clenched more tightly. He’s bigger, stronger, and he knows if he punched the bastard in his smug face he’d come out on top. He’s also getting the feeling that maybe that suit with a name is a sign that Luke is a man with a name Sam should know and be wary of.

“I know that I want you to be my lawyer. You have a choice here, Sammy. You can walk out that door right now and have the same chances as everyone else to buy this necklace back. Or you can serve as my legal counsel and work off the necklace’s worth.” Sam swallows and looks at the necklace. The pearls are taunting him again, tempting him. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not doing already. You’re not going to be doing anything illegal. All you’ll be doing is filing some papers and putting in a few court appearances as my representation. That’s it. Say ‘yes’ and the pearls are yours; you can walk out the door with them today.”

“Nothing illegal?” It won’t be like before; he won’t let it. He doesn’t bother to ask if it’s nothing unethical, he’s not that naïve.

“Nothing illegal.” If the curl of Luke’s lip seems to say ‘not yet,’ well, Sam can always say he didn’t see it and no one will call him on it but his own conscience (and that’s got enough to worry about these days; this is just one more bit of guilt that’ll have to wait in line).

He doesn’t have anything of his mother but this necklace, not even the faint memories that Dean clings to. “OK.” Luke still looks like he’s waiting. “Yes.” Maybe it’s that the man really is a series of clichés or maybe that’s all Sam can think in at the moment, but he sees the grin and his only thought is ‘the cat that got the canary.’

“Excellent.” Luke swiftly twists the necklace around Sam’s palm, curling his fingers around it. Sam jerks away, but he’s caught by Luke’s hand still curled around his, the lengths of pearl twisting between them. “We’ll work out all the technicalities later tonight. Over dinner, somewhere nice. Don’t worry about the details, I’ll arrange everything.” And then Luke’s swept out into the back room, leaving Sam staring after him.

Alone in the pawnshop, clutching at the pearl necklace he came in here to beg for, he’s not sure exactly what he bargained away to get it. It can’t be as much as last time, surely, and he’s not going to let it happen again. He turns to walk out, trying to think about whether ‘somewhere nice’ for dinner is worth changing into his best suit (given that the difference is negligible compared to what Luke’s bound to be wearing) and not about whether the real reason it’s not going to happen again is because he’s finally made a deal with the devil he can’t worm his way out of. 

Sam scrubs a hand through his hair, the necklace sliding down his wrist at the motion. As he pulls his hand down to push open the door the pearls catch the light, and this time he can’t tell if the gleam is smug or pitying or just a reflection, but whatever it is he’s already planning on stuffing the damn thing into a box for a long, long time just so he doesn’t have to think about it.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this fic started it’s life based on the idea that pearls are formed when a bit of sand gets trapped inside oysters and the oysters start secreting nacre to encapsulate the sand and protect themselves. The idea was going to be that there was a bit of Lucifer left in Sam and his mind had done that and when Lucifer got out of the cage it had turned into this beautiful thing that Lucifer would examine closely, admiring it for its flaws (because that’s one of the ways you can tell real pearls from fake, because they have flaws). Obviously this fic is very, very different.
> 
> Somehow the idea of Lucifer examining Sam closely and the pearls stuck but the idea of pawnbrokers snuck in (still not sure how, tbh). And then I found out that not only is the patron saint of pawnbrokers St. Nicolas, their symbol is basically an upside down pitchfork. So at that point I couldn’t _not_ , really.
> 
> Oh, and the reason that Luke calls Sam Matthew is because he thinks he’s being clever and is referencing two Bible verses. (1) Matthew 7:6—“Do not give what is holy to dogs, and do not throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in piece” and (2) Matthew 13:45-46—“ Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”
> 
> Also, I realize it’s probably pretty unrealistic for a lawyer to only take on innocent clients. But considering the extent of my knowledge of the US legal system comes largely from Law & Order reruns, I hope you’ll forgive me the artistic license.


End file.
